


Emerald Eyes

by Mother_Of_Hedgehogs



Category: L'ultimo Terrestre | The Last Man On Earth (2011), Murder on the Orient Express (2017), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/M, Kenzarelli through the Kenzarelli verse, Pierro, Porn with a lot of Plot, Roberta my goddess made me do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27990351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_Of_Hedgehogs/pseuds/Mother_Of_Hedgehogs
Summary: Pierre frowned in confusion and touched his coat, feeling the shape of something in his inside pocket. He looked inside it and pulled out a carefully folded paper. Written on it in elegant calligraphy, was an address and a phone number.A huge smile crossed his lips, and when the train horn that would take him to London echoed in the station, he trotted towards it, with the image of those emerald eyes present in his thoughts.
Relationships: Pierre-Paul Michel/Roberta (L'ultimo Terrestre)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	Emerald Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ririsasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ririsasy/gifts).



> For my beautiful baby [ Riri ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/maghrib-genova)
> 
> This took me ages to get done and probably have thousands of mistakes, but I really do not give a fuck. Time and space are relative and English is a cursed language anyway. 
> 
> Enjoy and let others enjoy!

**Emerald Eyes**

At eight o'clock, on September 25, 1929, the most impressive woman Pierre had ever seen boarded the train at the Wien Hauptbahnhof in Vienna. 

Her figure looked tiny under the thick white fur coat that covered her up to her calves, barely revealing her shiny black heels and the white stockings that covered her legs. Her face was hidden under a white hat with a wide brim, and her hands protected from the cold by white silk gloves, which Mr. Bouc caressed with delight when he bent down to kiss the woman's knuckles in a greeting. 

"It's a pleasure to have you with us, Roberta," said his boss, letting go of the woman's hand after a few long seconds holding it. 

"The pleasure is mine, Bouc," Pierre felt his heart skip a beat as the woman, whose only feature he could see was her little crooked smile, spoke.

"Well, Roberta, let me introduce you to Mr. Pierre Michel, our conductor. He will make your stay with us as pleasant as possible".

He jumped up in surprise when Mr. Bouc gave him a discreet push, forcing him to react by taking the woman's hand and kissing it as his boss had done. The silk of the glove was as soft as butter, and as he brushed the back of her hand with his nose, he inhaled the subtle aroma of roses that it gave off. The woman's hand,  _ Roberta's hand _ , tightened around his when he raised his eyes and made contact with the brightest pair of emeralds he had ever seen. 

"Welcome to the Orient Express, madame."

The woman widened her smile and nodded shyly, moving her hand away to hide it inside her coat once more. Pierre clasped his hands behind his back, clenching his right hand in a fist that tingled with the sensation of the woman's warm hand. 

"Roberta, I left you in good hands. Unfortunately, I have work to do." The other man said goodbye with a bow of his head and turned his back to go meet other passengers. Pierre watched him leave, not daring to see the woman, feeling too intimidated by the beauty of her eyes and her impressive height. 

"So, will you show me my cabin, Mr. Michel?" Roberta asked, and for the second time that morning, Pierre was startled. He quickly turned his eyes to her, and nodded wordlessly, indicating with a wave of his hand to follow him to the train. 

As the woman walked a couple of steps ahead of him, he took a deep breath and shouted at himself to act professionally. The woman was impressive, and his heart was pounding, and his hands were starting to break out in a cold sweat, even though he hadn't seen much of her other than her face shadowed by the hat. With only that, she was by far the most beautiful and elegant woman who had ever boarded the train, and visits from countesses, actresses, heiresses, were frequent. 

Roberta was traveling with a couple of large trunks that were taken to the train's hold, while her hand luggage, two decent sized suitcases, he carried into the cabin. The previous morning, while traveling from Budapest, Mr. Bouc had approached him to ask him to personally prepare the King's suite for a passenger who would be boarding in Vienna. He had not given him many explanations apart from making sure that everything was perfectly arranged, but Pierre had taken the liberty of adding some details that gave the room a warmer touch. 

Roberta followed him on the long way to the sleeper car, attracting the glances of the other passengers and raising a few murmurs as she passed. Pierre watched out of the corner of his eye as Princess Dragomiroff looked up and down at Roberta, grimacing in disgust before turning to whisper something to her servant in a fast Russian that Pierre did not understand. In spite of this, Roberta didn't flinch, and raised her head, marching at a steady pace next to Pierre, dodging the passengers who were approaching the car to wait for the train to leave. 

He led her down the narrow aisle of the simplest cabins, and almost tripped over one of the passengers as they approached the first-class area. 

"Madame Arden!" shouted Pierre in fright as he almost hit the woman with one of the bags as she came out of nowhere from her compartment. "I'm so sorry, are you all right?"

"Oh dear, I'm perfect, just a little..." the woman interrupted herself when her eyes caught the presence of Roberta, who was partially hiding behind Pierre, trying to go unnoticed. 

"Mrs. Di Genova?" asked the older woman, leaning to one side of Pierre to get a better look at the other woman. Roberta seemed to hesitate for a couple of seconds until she looked up, allowing Mrs. Arden to partially see her smiling face. 

"Mrs. Arden, how are you?" she asked politely. Pierre was pushed aside when Mrs. Arden rushed forward to wrap Roberta in a tight embrace that the woman barely returned, raising her head to give Pierre an uncomfortable look. 

"Oh dear, what a surprise to have you here! We have a lot to talk about, the last time I saw you was at your husband's party."

Pierre's heart fell to his stomach in disappointment; so she is married, of course, a woman like this could not be single, and even if she were, he had no chance. 

"Yes, it was a while ago."

"I hope you have time to have a coffee and catch up."

"Of course I do, Mrs. Arden. However, I would like to get to my compartment now."

"Of course, my dear, I'm sorry to interrupt. See you later for tea?"

"It will be a pleasure." 

When Mrs. Arden disappeared down the hall, Pierre turned his attention to Roberta again, gesturing at her continue on their way. The woman nodded to herself and followed his steps to the finely carved door with the name:  _ King George's suite _ on a small golden plaque on top. He left her bags on the floor and reached for the master key in his pocket to open the door and allow Roberta to enter what would be her home for the next three days. 

"I hope everything is to your liking, Mrs. Di Genova." He murmured as he entered the cabin, the most luxurious and comfortable on the train. 

Roberta nodded silently, getting into the compartment to examine her surroundings while Pierre carried his bags to the foot of the bed to begin unpacking. It was not part of his job to do so, he could send one of the chambermaids to do it, however being such a special guest, and with the task assigned by Mr. Bouc to attend to Roberta in the best way, he would help her unpack with pleasure. 

The suite was large, longer than wide to accommodate the shape of the train. Space was dominated by the huge bed hidden behind the thick wine-red curtains hanging from the canopy on the right side of the room; the wood on the walls was upholstered in orange velvet with floral patterns in different shades of red, while the floor was decorated with a soft gray carpet with gold edges; the furniture was sparse, barely enough to keep one or two guests comfortable. A long red upholstered divan next to the left wall and next to it two chairs and a small round table where to sit to drink tea and at the foot of the bed a long piece of furniture where to place clothes and personal objects. 

A large window dominated most of the wall next to the bed and allowed the soft yellowish natural light in the station to enter, providing a unique view to the guests once the journey had begun. In the middle of the back wall, a small door led to the small private bathroom, equipped with a marble sink and bathtub, and a watering can that provided the place with water heated in the same way as the water that supplied the locomotive and ran the train. 

Roberta hummed, taking a couple of steps towards the bed while she took off her hat, absent-mindedly shaking her hair with her free hand. His breath caught in his throat when Pierre looked up to see the woman's clear face. She was decidedly beautiful. Her thin, shaped eyebrows framed alongside thick eyelashes, the emerald sea that was her enormous eyes; her slightly aquiline nose stood out in her thin face with high cheekbones and sunken cheeks; her full lips were painted scarlet red and a small mole on her jaw near her mouth completed the work of art that was her face. 

A pair of wavy locks fell on her forehead, and as she let go of the heavy coat, a thick bush of brown waves fell on her back and shoulders. Pierre swallowed thickly, looking down at the woman's body, who dropped the coat next to the hat and turned her back to look at the rest of the room. The delicate light yellow dress fitted her slender body, and surprisingly broad shoulders and fell gracefully over the very defined curvature of her butt, which dried his throat before the soft swaying. 

Roberta then turned, as if sensing the conductor's intense gaze, and her deep eyes caught him. Her lips pursed in a funny little smile as she tilted her face with a questioning gesture. Pierre felt his cheeks and ears burning and immediately returned his attention to the half-opened suitcase, scolding himself internally for his indiscretion. 

Roberta smiled to herself and shook her hair, going to sit on the comfortable couch while Pierre unpacked her meager clothing, shoes, and personal care items. She threw away her gloves, leaving them beside her on the couch, and looked intently at the conductor who hunched over her suitcase, blushing to the tips of his ears as he carefully arranged the delicate pieces of lace underwear she had packed. A wolfish smile crossed her face, she was about to say something when a couple of taps sounded on the open compartment door. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Di Genova?" asked a young waiter bowing in a respectful greeting as he held an envelope in his hands. 

"Yes, is something wrong?"

"This letter arrived for you at the station this morning, we were waiting for your arrival to give it to you personally."

Roberta stood up with a scowl, and with a small thank you, she dismissed the messenger, returning to her place with the paper in her hand. Pierre turned to put the folded clothes away in the corresponding cabinet and watched with curiosity as the woman tightened her grip on the letter, tensing like a violin string before throwing it on the coffee table as if it were burning. 

"Are you far from it, Mr. Michel?" she asked startlingly, with a tense voice that emphasized her strong Italian accent even more.

"No, just a second madame."

The woman nodded and looked at the floor with a clenched jaw as Pierre finished putting away her clothes and shoes, and carefully arranged her toiletries on top of the furniture. The young man looked at her sideways from time to time, wondering who might have sent the letter that had made the beautiful woman look so bad, but even though Roberta looked so dejected, it was not his place to ask. 

"All set, Mrs. Di Genova." He informed her by standing in front of her, with his back straight and his hands behind his back. The woman was a little startled, coming out of her thoughts, and raised her bright green eyes, full of tears that she tried to contain, and that made Pierre's heart tighten in his chest.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Michel." She whispered in a broken voice, and Pierre felt his hand stinging to caress the pale face and bring her some comfort. Instead, he just nodded and took a couple of steps towards the door.

"The train will leave in a few minutes. Coffee and desserts will be served at ten-thirty. I hope to see you there."

Roberta blinked and gave him a little broken smile nodding. Pierre looked at her for a long second and returned a broad smile that he hoped would convey kindness, before leaving the compartment and closing the door behind him. 

She jumped to her feet and ran to get the letter, sighing shakily as she tore the paper from the envelope. She crumpled it into a ball and threw it to the ground, trying to ignore the name of Maria Di Franco in golden letters that decorated the envelope and the top of the carefully folded letter. 

She read with his heart clenched in a fist the cruel words of her sister-in-law before tearing up the letter and throwing the pieces to the ground with a grunt of pain. She reached for his silver cigarette case and matching lighter in the inside pocket of her coat, and lit a cigarette, giving it an anxious puff. She expelled the smoke from his lungs with a long sigh and dropped into the perfectly arranged soft bed as the engine driver blew the trains horns as it left the station, and the huge contraption shook itself to begin sliding down the tracks to its next destination.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, dragging with them the subtle makeup she had put on. A breath of fresh air came in through the window that Pierre had probably opened and not noticed, shaking her hair and encouraging her to take a deep breath and try to calm down. 

Roberto Amato had been born in a small village in the mountains of southern Italy. He had spent most of his childhood helping his parents take care of the family farm, milking the cows and goats, running through the fields, and playing with his neighbors from the nearby farms. He had grown up to be a handsome young man, intelligent, but with limited opportunities, who dreamed of moving to the capital and studying the letters of the famous writers of the books that his neighbor, Signor Carlo, had lent him, and who could barely read with what the old village teacher had taught him. 

He was sixteen years old when a professor had arrived in the village; a rich and powerful man, a recognized poet from the capital who had won prizes all over the world and who had friends in the highest spheres of European and American society. He was by far what Roberto dreamed of becoming, or  _ almost. _ The man had marveled at his curiosity to learn and had taught him as much as he could with the limited resources he had with him, and when Roberto came to him in tears one day to tell him his deepest secret, he had received him with an open heart and open arms. 

His nose was dripping with blood and his right eye was beginning to turn purple from the force with which his father had beaten him when he found him looking at himself in the mirror in his older sister's dress, barely placed on his chest, but it had been enough to drive the man crazy. The professor had comforted him all night, and the next morning, he had taken him home with a plan in his head and a proposal in his pocket. 

At the age of seventeen, the young man became Roberto Di Genova, husband of Marco Genova, and moved with him to his mansion in Rome. His family had pretended to be devastated, but the hundreds of lire Marco had given them to compensate for the absence of his son had cushioned their suffering. As he climbed into the car that his fiancé had asked to take them to their new home, he saw his family for the last time, saying goodbye with tears in the eyes of his older sister and mother, and barely giving his father a glance.

Rome was everything and more than Roberto had imagined. His husband's mansion was enormous, all in marble, with furniture and upholstery of the finest quality; precious art and decorations from all corners of the world, from the trips Marco, had made. His husband was twenty years older than he was, and had inherited the family fortune and increased it with his hard work. He was the eldest son and had two sisters, like him, married to powerful men from Italy, who looked at him like a cockroach every time they visited the house. Their wedding had been simple but beautiful, and Roberto had enjoyed every moment of it. His husband was a gentleman, and although like everyone else he had desires and needs, he had respected him until he came of age and docilely gave himself to him. 

Marco was the most wonderful man on earth. He had given him the education he had always wanted; letters, math, science, music, art, etiquette, and everything else he would need to become an educated young man who could function perfectly in high society. However, Roberto did not feel complete, and Marco understood that, so with his infinite love for him, he helped him become the person he wanted to be, the person he had always been. At the age of twenty-four, Roberta Di Genova had been introduced to society as the young and beautiful wife of the famous writer Marco Genova. 

Roberta was beautiful, like a Roman goddess, who attracted attention with her golden light that illuminated every place she entered. Refined, haughty as a woman of the highest lineage, she moved among the high spheres of European society, winning friends and enemies alike, who envied her beauty, intelligence, and the absolute devotion that her husband felt for her. Marco had taken her around the world, taught her everything he knew, and helped her become the woman she had always dreamed of being. 

However, not everything could be perfect for her, and while they were resting in their villa in the Italian countryside, her husband had suddenly become ill. Marco had slowly turned off, taking Roberta's light and her heart with him. When the man had died, a week before she turned thirty-three, he had given her one last kiss and whispered to her how much he loved her. Roberta had mourned for weeks the loss of her husband, the man she had loved more than anyone else in the world; she had locked herself in her home with her husband's ashes and had kept everyone away until she was strong enough to receive Marco's lawyers, who had informed her that the man's last will had been to leave everything he owned in the hands of his beloved wife. 

Her sisters-in-law had hated her and had done everything possible to take away her inheritance, but Roberta ignored them, sold her property in Italy, and moved to Vienna, as far away from the Genova family as possible. She had lived there for the last year, still suffering the loss of the love of her life, hardening her heart with every letter that came from her sisters-in-law, who like the most recent one, expressed their hatred towards her and how they wished her to rot in hell, where phenomena like she belonged. 

She had made the decision to move to France a few weeks ago, to change her airs; perhaps a place as agitated as the French capital would make her feel alive again, and so she had seen herself calling the Orient Express to buy a first-class ticket to Paris. 

When the train jerked a little on a curve, she woke up from her light sleep in one jump. She looked around in confusion, seeing the ashes of the cigarette already spent soiling the white silk sheets, and the tall trees of the mountains passing outside the window at full speed. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of who she was, and that the opinion of those odious women could not affect her, and rose from her bed, picking up the ashes to leave the place that the train crew had taken pains to make perfect for her. 

As she cleaned the sheets, her eyes caught what she had ignored before, a note with a quick scribble in French welcoming her to the train and a fresh white rose next to it. She took the rose between her fingers with a smile and smelled its soft scent. Her heart warmed, understanding through the phrase in French that the detail must have been the work of sweet Pierre.

She left the rose carefully on the piece of furniture next to her make-up that the man had carefully organized, and went to the bathroom to cool off a little before going to the dining car for his snack. She changed her yellow dress for a pale pink one with long sleeves that adjusted to every curve of her body; arranged her hair that brushed half of her back in a high chignon and put her makeup back on, delineating her eyebrows, coloring her eyes with gold, her cheeks with pink and her lips with red. She perfumed herself and put on a black coat that she did not bother to buckle, and left her compartment, ready not to let Maria's words ruin her trip, nor the memory of the young conductor's smile that filled her with warmth. 

Her footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet that covered the aisle, and the morning sunlight coming in through the windows was caught by the gold and precious stone necklaces that hung around her neck and reflected their colorful glow throughout the place. As she walked to the other car, she watched with delight the opulence of the train, decorated down to the smallest detail to emphasize the expensive value of each ticket. The intricate designs on the window panes, the polished wood of the tables, chairs, and the small bar; the landscapes and paintings hanging on the walls, the place looked more like a high-class hotel than a medium of transportation. 

As she entered the dining room, she was surprised at how crowded it was. Men and women of all ages, shapes. and colors sat at the small tables, chatting animatedly and enjoying coffee and desserts. As she slid down the aisle between the tables, she greeted everyone with a nod and a polite smile, or at least she tried to, because the older woman, whom she recognized as the bitter Princess Natalia Dragomiroff, looked at her with a wrinkled nose and looked away to continue stroking the fur of the little dog she had curled up in her lap. She was so focused on watching the puppy stick its nose into the princess's cup that she was barely aware of the presence that rushed over her until a pair of big hands squeezed her shoulders. 

She looked up in surprise, bumping into Pierre's huge, glowing eyes. 

"Madame Di Genova, I was about to go looking for you! Mrs. Arden is waiting for you." The man let go of her and without erasing his enormous smile as bright as the rays of the sun, he pointed out with one arm the path to follow. 

Roberta nodded and followed the man to the other end of the wagon, where the actress was waiting for her sitting at one of the smaller tables, behind one of the glass separators that gave the place some privacy. 

"Thank you very much, Mr. Michele," she thanked him when the man moved her chair for her and then gently pushed her back into a better position. Mrs. Arden gave Pierre a deep look, almost demanding that he leave, but the man ignored her and waited until Roberta ordered her coffee and a strawberry shortcake to accompany it. 

"Linda, once again, good to see you."

"It's so good to see you too Roberta. I've missed your insightful comments on American cinema so much." 

Roberta laughed with amusement at this and spent the next hour and a half talking to the older woman, trying to avoid as much as possible the subject of her husband's recent death. 

"So now you're moving to Paris?" 

"Yes, I got tired of the calm of Vienna, I think I need some of the joy of Paris."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll have fun, it's a pity Marco can't be here anymore." And there she was. Roberta immediately stretched out on her seat, and looked out at the landscape through the window, squinting as the strong sunlight hit the water of a small lake that was beginning to freeze over as autumn progressed and winter approached. 

"Yes, it's a shame." She mumbled with clenched teeth.

As Linda whispered long and hard about the wonderful memories she had of her husband and the countless parties they had attended together, she turned her gaze to the rest of the wagon, encountering the presence of Pierre, who slipped in among the diners, always giving them his attention with his adorable smile. The young man's brown eyes turned to her for a second, and when he realized she was looking at him, he blushed once more. 

Roberta had to swallow the smile that pushed out of her lips, and she turned her attention back to Linda, not missing for a moment the not very discreet glances that Pierre cast in her direction every time he appeared in the car. 

An hour later, her companion apologized to go to the bathroom, and Roberta took advantage of the fact that at that moment Pierre was chatting with the man who was attending the bar, to observe him better. The driver's uniform fit him perfectly, looking impeccable, without a single wrinkle, with the hat perfectly aligned over his head and each button of the vest correctly fastened. He was tall, and from what little she could see from the way the pants and jacket fit his extremities, he was in good shape. His clean face with the slightest trace of a freshly shaved beard was beautiful, well-shaped, which wrinkled adorably when he smiled in such a sweet manner. He was young, she could see it, maybe a couple of years younger than her, and if the longing in his eyes every time he looked at her, said something, he was a man with a sweetheart and full of love. 

Roberta wished she could return the light-filled smiles and desire in his eyes, yet her heart was not ready for this, and it would not be fair for the young man to become attached to her when they would surely not see each other again, and not when she could not guarantee she would return the love he could give her, not yet at least. 

Yet she had been so alone, so closed in on herself and her pain. Perhaps a little love and care from the hands of a handsome man like Pierre would help her regain the meaning of life. 

Weighing her thoughts, she stared at Pierre, trying to convey her desires through his eyes. The man must have felt her penetrating gaze because he looked at her again while holding a tray with a glass full of liquor in it. Roberta saw him swallow his saliva and look back at him with the same intensity, raising an eyebrow just barely and arching his mouth in a small insinuating smile. Roberta slipped the tip of her tongue over his lower lip, and Pierre widened his smile, only to be cut off halfway by Mrs. Arden's push to get him out of the way as she returned from the bathroom. 

Roberta laughed discreetly, covering herself with her napkin, at the carmine red shade that covered the face and what she could see from the young Frenchman's neck, as he returned to his job of serving the passengers of the Orient Express.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Around two o'clock in the afternoon, when most of the passengers had taken their lunch, and the train was gathering speed climbing the high mountains that brought them to their first stop in Munich, Pierre was finally able to take his well-deserved rest. He hunched over a corner of the crowded kitchen and barely chewed the plate of food that had already cooled. 

As the festivities approached, the train became more and more crowded, so his work became heavier and the shifts longer. The director always requested a substitute conductor for these cases, where he alone could not cope with the needs of the passengers and make sure the whole damn train was in order. His job was very heavy, and for the last year, he had been seriously thinking about applying for the director's position, as he did practically all the work, a better title and better pay would not hurt. Mr. Bouc was a good man, but besides looking nice and socializing with the passengers, he didn't do much.

Pierre couldn't remember the last time he had slept more than half an hour, and he was starting to feel the lack of sleep taking its toll. Fortunately, his understudy had boarded in Vienna, and that night he could finally change shifts, leaving the other man in charge from seven at night until seven the next morning, when he would have to be on his feet again to attend to the demanding passengers for the day. 

He left the empty plate in the hands of one of the kitchen assistants and said goodbye with a grateful smile. He sneaked among the diners in the dining car, nodding to Aurelio, the young Spaniard who would fill in for him while he rested and later while he slept. The first-class compartments were located almost at the end of the train, separated from each other in second and third-class by two small observation cars, of which the one that served as the rest-room for the first-class had enormous windows, several very comfortable armchairs, and padded chairs, a library section and a small open-air balcony with a wooden and metal bench so the passengers could go out to get some air and observe the beautiful landscape better. 

The tiny staff rooms were at the end, crossing over to the last train car, next to the warehouse. 

They were very small compartments, regularly shared by two or three people, however, his position as a conductor gave him certain privileges, among them having his room. He rushed to his room with his eyes burning with fatigue, and when he managed to arrive, he threw himself on the bed without ceremony. He threw his hat away and closed his eyes with a long sigh, crushing himself against the hard mattress of his cot. 

The soft rocking of the train quickly put him to sleep, and before he could notice, he found himself in the middle of a meadow full of flowers of all colors. He frowned when a ray of sunshine hit him squarely, and blinked in confusion as he looked around, wondering when he had gotten there. He turned on his heels and his gaze caught a bright figure, illuminated by the strong sun like a precious gem. A woman, as far as he could make out, with wavy brown hair that waved in a gentle wind as she walked away from him, dragging behind her the long tail of a wedding dress. The woman seemed to feel his gaze and slowly turned her body around, plunging her emerald eyes into him through the delicate lace of the veil that covered her face. The breath left his lungs;  _ she looked like an angel _ . 

A particularly strong jolt from the train knocked him out of his sleep, almost throwing him to the floor. When he managed to stabilize in bed, he sighed for a long minute, rubbing his face with his hands to keep the sleep away from him. 

" _ Merde _ ," he snarled between his fingers, had he dreamt of Mrs. Di Genova, the married, rich, and very unreachable  _ Roberta Di Genova _ ?

Resigned, he expelled the little air he had left and stood up. He looked at the small pocket watch he always had on the little table beside his bed and nodded to himself when he saw that he still had 20 minutes of rest. He stood up, stretching his aching muscles, and grabbed his hat in anger, leaving his compartment to go find a place to sit in peace for a few minutes. 

The first-class observation car was empty, and he quickly got into it, sliding the door to the balcony to get out. The almost freezing air hit him hard when he put one foot out of the compartment, and he staggered a bit as he closed the door and walked to get closer to the bench, where he dropped unconsciously, like a puppet without his strings. 

The wind carried a soft smell of pines, which he inhaled deeply, seeking to relax. He had dreamt of Roberta, for God's sake!  _ What was wrong with him? _

The woman was by far the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever seen. She was sensual, elegant, and from what little he had seen, very kind, and very married if understood correctly. Leaving aside the important fact that she looked like a Greek or Roman goddess and he looked like a mere mortal, they were from different social classes. Roberta was rich, to say the least, and in the wonderful case that she was not already engaged, nothing would work between them. 

He tried to relax by calmly breathing in the fresh air; he unbuttoned the buttons on his jacket, leaving the simple black shirt that was pressed around his chest. He moved his shoulders and laid his head on the windowpane behind him, trying to shut out his thoughts for a couple of minutes, or at least trying to focus them on something other than the woman he was serving. 

"Taking a break, Mr. Michele?" 

He almost jumped out of his skin and off the balcony onto the train tracks when the rhythmic voice of the woman who was filling his thoughts whispered close to him,  _ too close _ . With exorbitant eyes, he looked towards the door, where Roberta was leaning, holding a lit cigarette between her elegant naked fingers. 

"M-Mrs. Di Genova. Do you need anything, madame?" he asked when he managed to find his voice. 

The woman brought the cigarette to her red lips and took a puff, slowly releasing the smoke. She shook her head and went completely out onto the balcony. 

"No, I'm fine, I was just looking for a quiet place to smoke, other than my boring room. I didn't expect to find you here."

"Yes I- I'm on my break." Pierre straightened up better in his seat and slid more towards the end of the bench in case the woman wanted to take a seat, however, Roberta ignored him, and leaned on the safety railing with her back to him, and a splendid view of the curvature of her butt through the thin fabric of her pink dress. 

Not wearing her coat, he realized when he saw her shuddering when a particularly strong gust of wind whipped them into a bend in the road. Roberta moved, looking over her shoulder, and Pierre looked away from her immediately. The woman smiled, showing her teeth, and without ceasing to see him, she gave the cigarette another puff. This was the second time she caught him watching her curves too closely, one more time and he would probably be fired. 

Roberta wanted to lull on how adorable the man was, that had once again blushed blush, this time in a delicious pink. She hadn't misunderstood his looks then. Perhaps it wouldn't be as difficult to seduce the little boy as she had thought. She turned her body and rested her hip on the wood of the railing, looking carefully at the Frenchman who was trying to ignore her with all his strength. 

"Tell me, Mr. Michel..."

"Pierre, please." He asked to interrupt her. Roberta raised a perfect eyebrow and Pierre looked away embarrassed by his abruptness. 

"Pierre, then. Tell me, how long have you been working here?

"Five years, madame."

"Oh, just Roberta is fine, Ro if it suits you better." She moved his hand in the air, playing down the matter, and Pierre nodded quickly with a small smile. "So five years... Always the same route?

"No, I usually work on the Istanbul to London route, on the Simplon Orient Express."

"What are you doing here then? If I may ask."

"Mr. Bouc requested my presence for the season. We will have some very important guests these months and they... like the way I attend them." The man gave her a hint of a smile, and Roberta laughed heartily.  _ He was a sweetheart.  _

"I can see that you are a very efficient man,  _ Pierre. _ " She whispered, emphasizing his name. He shuffled on the seat, ignoring the tingle he felt in his crotch at the way the woman's strong accent caressed every letter in his name. 

"I try. I like to do my job well to please the passengers." He said with a flirty wink, and it was Roberta's turn to swallow heavily. 

"I'm sure you're the most compliant."

"You can judge for yourself." He murmured like an invitation, opening his legs a little. The woman's deep eyes ran slowly down his body, pausing for a couple of long seconds in his crotch, where the uniform's pants were pressed deliciously, before looking back into his eyes. She licked her lips flirtatious, and Pierre gave her a cheeky smile back. 

The train's horn sounded loudly announcing the time change and Pierre immediately stopped smiling, remembering that he had to work. 

"That's my call. I must return to my duties."

With resignation, he stood up, slowly buttoning up his jacket and putting his hideous hat over his short curls, under Roberta's watchful eye, amazed at the way the shirt was pressed against his torso, which as she suspected was quite well-shaped. 

He looked up with a smile and bowed slightly to the woman, taking a couple of steps towards the door, before being held by Roberta's delicate hand on his chest. His long fingers clung to the loose fabric of the jacket and pulled him closer. Pierre's heart beat rapidly at the sudden proximity, and he was sure that it had exploded in his chest, when the woman leaned towards him, brushing her chest against his, before raising her head to deposit a soft and long kiss in the corner of his lips. 

Pierre breathed in sharply, frozen in place and wrapped in Roberta's soft touch and her floral-scented perfume. Slowly she moved away, smiling sweetly at him before releasing his jacket and arranging the wrinkled fabric with a soft caress. 

"See you at dinner,  _ Pierre. _ "

Dazed, unable to believe what had just happened, he dragged his feet to the next car. For the next four hours, as he wandered around the train tending to the passengers and doing paperwork, he couldn't stop thinking about the softness of the dreamy woman's lips against his cheek, or the tingling he still felt. Mr. Bouc looked at him strangely as he kept smiling dreamily, yet said nothing, assuming it was something French.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Dinner was served at six o'clock in the evening, a couple of hours after tea time so that the passengers had time to digest their food. 

Roberta had returned to her suite brimming with joy and with a plan in mind. Pierre was definitely not indifferent to her charms, and if she had the opportunity she should take it, but he would work for the big prize, of course. 

She took a quick bath, enjoying the warm water and the fruity aroma of the bath soaps that, once again, Pierre had left for her in the bathroom. She combed her long hair and pulled the front locks off her face with her favorite brooch, a gift from Marco from one of his trips to China, in the shape of lotus flowers and small diamonds and emeralds. She rubbed rose-scented cream all over her body and perfumed her neck, before putting on a very tight, long-sleeved white dress with a slightly too insinuating neckline. She left out her stockings, leaving her long, shapely legs visible, which looked even more attractive thanks to the high scarlet heels. She gently made up and put on her favorite pearl necklace and with a last look in the mirror, left her room. 

When she entered the car and the eyes turned to her, she smiled contentedly, knowing that her purpose had been fulfilled and that she looked stunning. Pierre emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne in his hands and froze in his tracks when he saw her approaching one of the empty tables. His dark eyes ran through the sharp curves of her figure, pausing a little longer than they should have on her long legs.

Roberta greeted him with a nod, taking a seat in the place she had chosen, and Pierre blinked quickly out of his daze, and almost running to the table of Princess Dragomiroff, who was sending him her best look of hate for his tardiness. 

The young Frenchman was so nervous when he went to ask about her order, Roberta could see him, yet she enjoyed crossing her legs and arranging her dress so that her thighs were even more visible when Pierre hunched over her table to listen to her order. His hands were shaking as he arranged the dishes with her dinner on the table, and almost threw away the glass of red wine he had served her. Roberta found his behavior so endearing; he was adorable as he could be sweet and clumsy one moment, and flirtatious and insinuating the next, giving her predatory looks and wolfish smiles from the other side of the room. 

He passed by with a tray loaded with desserts for the table where Linda ate, chatting animatedly with the one who if she was not mistaken was a teacher, and her husband, a doctor. The woman had gestured for her to join them, but she had declined the offer, preferring to eat alone so she could enjoy the brazen flirtation she had started with Pierre and kept up the whole time until she finished her meal. 

Deciding to skip the dessert, she waved to the man when he emerged again from the wagon, and he approached her almost jumping. 

"Did you enjoy your dinner?" He asked with a big smile, his eyes shining under the yellow light of the spotlights that illuminated the place. 

"Very much, give my congratulations to the chef, everything was delicious." She winked at him and the man widened his smile further if possible. 

His eyes drifted briefly down to her bare legs, and Roberta took the opportunity to stand up. Pierre rushed to move the chair for her and allow her to get away from the table, brushing her body discreetly. 

"I have one last request to make of you. It's ok?" she asked in a whisper, too close to his ear.

"Of course." He stammered, suddenly nervous. 

"Can you bring me a glass of red wine to my room in an hour? 

"As you wish, madame."

She smiled gently at him and before he could walk away, she raised a hand and caressed his cheek. "Thank you, tesoro."

She walked away with a huge smile, shamelessly moving her hips, knowing that Pierre's sharp eye would be fixed on her. She winked at the princess who looked at her in shock at her actions and walked out of the car, almost running to her room, feeling like a teenager again. 

Pierre took a deep breath and adjusted the collar of his jacket, feeling that he was suffocating. God, that woman was going to kill him.

"Young man!" The princess shouted at him and jumped in place, remembering where he was and that he had to get back to work before his shift was over. He put on the kindest smile he could and walked over to the princess's table to attend to whatever were her needs this time.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The tray on which he had placed a glass and the best wine they had was shaking violently in his hands as he lay standing outside Roberta's compartment. His hands were sweating and the collar of his jacket was suffocating him. A voice inside his head shouted at him to run away, that he was not man enough for this, yet his longing to see the woman and talk to her for a few more seconds won out over his nervousness and insecurities. 

With a long breath, he took courage, and knocked on the wooden door twice, waiting until Roberta's soft voice allowed him to enter. He turned the doorknob and pushed it slowly, barely peeking his head inside the room dimly lit by the orange lamp bulb near the bed. 

He swallowed and went into the space, freezing in place and losing all coherent thought when he found the guest, lying on the big bed, in her underwear and a thin white gauze gown, leaving the almost total nudity of her body insight. 

Roberta smiled like a cat at his silence and stood up to walk towards him with slow steps, swaying her hips suggestively, to take the tray out of his hands. 

"Pierre, do you have a minute?" she asked him, turning her back to place the tray on the coffee table. 

Pierre swore he died the second his eyes moved over the woman's body and glimpsed the naked skin of her ass through the gown. The delicate underwear she wore could not cover the perfect roundness even close up, and only made Roberta's beautiful, bulky ass look more appealing. 

"Pierre, can you hear me?" Roberta called again and he forced himself to react and stop devouring the woman like a pervert. 

"Y-yes." He was barely able to whisper, and Roberta pursed her lips and looked at him tenderly. 

"Please sit down." She pointed to the couch, and when she saw that he didn't seem to be able to move on his own, she pushed him a little across the chest until he was sitting on the padded surface, completely stiff. 

Pierre's dark eyes followed every little movement Robert made, who danced around the room looking for something until she came back to him with another glass. As she uncorked the bottle she looked sideways at Pierre, who kept staring at her, this time at her face, with panic and burning desire deep in his chocolate eyes. 

"Do you have time to have a drink with me?

Not trusting his voice to sound normal, he just nodded, earning a pleased smile from the woman. She poured a substantial amount of the dark red liquid into each of the glasses and extended one to Pierre. When she stood in front of him to hand him the glass, he could see a slight glint of the lace covering the front of his crotch, and his mouth immediately dried up. 

Roberta turned her back to him once and he had to take a long, quick drink of the wine to try to calm down. 

"So tell me, you're French, aren't you?" she asked as she sat on the edge of the bed, her long legs crossed and her hips tilted, inviting his gaze to continue to feast his eyes. 

"Oui, I was born in Ile-de-France, near the Château de Versailles." He answered when he was able to speak again. 

Roberta nodded thoughtfully, taking a long drink from her glass. Pierre followed the movement of her throat, walking the path from her neck to her clavicles that jumped out of sight between her broad shoulders, and the little of her pale naked chest that he could see through the gown. 

"Versailles, eh? It is beautiful? I've heard a lot about the palace, yet I haven't had the chance to visit it."

"The hall of mirrors is certainly beautiful."  _ But it doesn't rival your goddess beauty _ , he refrained from saying. 

"And you still live there?" 

"No, I moved to Paris recently because of work." 

They spent the next half hour talking about Paris and Pierre's travels aboard the train, with the man trying to ignore how the gown slipped over Roberta's body every time she moved while she gestured angrily as she spoke. He allowed himself to observe her attentively for a few moments, marveling at the expressions that crossed her beautiful face outlined by the shadows that the dim light created on her. 

_ She was too beautiful to be real.  _

He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice when Roberta had stopped talking and stood up with her empty cup in her hand. His gaze followed the subtle movements the woman made as she approached the table to pour herself some more of the delicious wine. However, after leaving the glass on the table she turned toward him, fixing her bright eyes on his face, with a predatory grimace on her lips that forced Pierre to retreat in his position, intimidated. 

"Pierre..." she whispered, dragging his name for a couple of seconds with decadence. "Can I ask you something?" Her feet moved towards him, shortening the centimeters that separated them until they were barely apart, with Roberta standing in front of him, standing upright in all her majesty. 

Wordless once more, he nodded furiously. 

"Do you think I'm pretty?" 

_ What? _ the air left his lungs as if he had been hit directly in the chest. The woman tilted her head and took one more step forward, brushing her knees against Pierre's. 

"Do you find me attractive?" she asked again. 

Pierre could not find his voice; he was in shock, stunned. He nodded slowly, not knowing what to do, squeezing the edge of the divan with his hands so hard that his knuckles turned white. 

"Do you like me, Pierre?" she interrogated once more in a whisper. 

His heart fell to his stomach when with a slight push of her knee, Roberta settled between his legs. Her long fingers looked for the tie that tied the gown on her waist and Pierre followed the movement with his eyes, choking on his own saliva when she got rid of the tie and released the gown, letting it fall to the ground. 

With his mouth-watering, he observed the half-naked body offered to him. She was thin, very, very thin, yet her silhouette curved in the right areas. He passed his eyes through the flat chest decorated with two beautiful dark pink buttons that he was dying to hold between his teeth, sliding towards her flat stomach and her small waist, perfectly molded to give her the appearance of an hourglass that could only be achieved with a corset. Her hip bones cried out to be marked by his teeth as they framed the path to paradise between her legs, hidden under the lace of her panties. Her long legs were as long and robust as he had imagined. 

He moved his eyes again and again over Roberta's beautiful body, yet his gaze always returned to the same place, to the silhouette of her member that was marked through her underwear. His hands were itching to touch, knead, and take possession of all that he could; his mouth was salivating abundantly, longing to taste every inch of skin at sight and more. 

Roberta remained still, patiently waiting for the man to finish his analysis, but she was getting anxious, and the light wind that was sneaking into the compartment was making her feel uncomfortable; she needed some heat, and soon. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" she muttered, leaning over to him. Her long fingers brushed his ear and with a quick movement she tore off his hat, throwing it away. She buried his hands in his hair, sliding the long tips of her nails through his scalp. 

Pierre held a moan of pleasure with all his strength and closed his eyes enjoying the sensation of the caresses. "I like you too." The woman whispered in his ear and Pierre opened his eyes suddenly, just in time to be attacked by Roberta's lips on his own. 

She moved her warm lips over his with mastery, pressing for him to react and kiss her back; when he opened his lips and subtly brushed Roberta's lower lip with the tip of his tongue, she groaned and threw herself at him, taking him off guard. 

His back hit the wood of the wall with a deafening blow and his head would have followed the same path if it were not for the hands of the woman who clung to his hair with strength, while she battled against his tongue in a voracious and anxious kiss. Pierre then put his hands in motion, surrounding Roberta's small waist with his trembling hands to hold her body against his chest in a strong embrace. 

Roberta groaned on his lips, sitting on his lap and pressing herself against his crotch. His teeth grabbed her lower lip and gave her a gentle tug that brought out a hoarse moan of pleasure. He slipped his tongue between the lips that received him eagerly, racing across his palate in a war to dominate the other. 

His anxious hands squeezed at her waist before descending to her hip, subtly squeezing the bones of her pelvis before bringing his fingers to the place he had longed to touch since he first saw her in her lovely yellow dress. He opened his hands trying to grasp as much as he could of the fluffy flesh of the bulky butt, burying his fingertips in it, pressing Roberta more against his now fully awake erection. 

"Aaaah, Pierre!" she moaned loudly, moving away from his lips completely out of breath. She arched her back and threw her head back. 

The Frenchman did not miss the opportunity, and stuck his lips to the right side of the pale neck, leaving small kisses on the pale skin, going down to her collarbones which he brushed with his teeth, pulling a new scream from the woman's lips. He slowly descended to the place he longed to try and stopped within an inch of rubbing the small nipples. Roberta looked at him in confusion at his sudden stillness and Pierre gave her a questioning look, silently asking her if he could continue. Roberta did not answer, instead, she entangled her fingers in his curls with force and pressed his face against her chest, in a mute order to continue giving her pleasure.

And Pierre was not going to make her wait. He opened his lips and trapped a small hardened nipple between them, sucking a little a couple of times before rubbing it with his tongue. Roberta screamed, arching herself against him even more. Her hands let go of his hair and went down to his shoulders, squeezing them like an anchor. He brushed his teeth against the delicate flesh and bites, trying to measure his strength so as not to hurt her.

Roberta was panting, completely melted in his arms. She moved her hips a little, rubbing against his erection again and again. Pierre moaned in delight against the other nipple, sending a stream of pleasure down the woman's spine as his murmur reverberated against her chest. The man's greedy hands tightly squeezed the spongy buttocks, separating them a little so that he could dip his fingers between them and brush the skin that was hidden there under the fabric of the underwear. 

"Oooh!" Roberta groaned loudly as she felt the lace rub against her entrance, and bounced off Pierre's lap wishing to feel more of his touches on her completely naked skin.

"Ta-take it away." She managed to mumble. Pierre nodded ready to obey but continued to rub the small entry with the tip of his index finger for a while longer. 

Roberta brought one of her hands to his hair once more and pulled it to force him away from her nipples that were glowing red for the attention, and lowered her head to bring their lips together again in a passionate kiss. Pierre then moved his hands, sliding his short nails over the soft skin he had kneaded so tightly that he was sure she would have beautiful finger marks the next day until his fingers brushed the edge of her panties. 

Three loud knocks sounded at the door, and both of them froze immediately. 

They looked into each other's eyes for a second, amidst the panic and burning excitement they still felt. Roberta shrugged her shoulders, ignoring the blows, and bent down to kiss his jaw, sliding her fingers to unbutton the first buttons of his jacket. Pierre closed his eyes and pressed his head back against the wall, enjoying the woman's kisses and her skillful tongue sliding down his jaw to his neck and under his ear. His fingers once again searched for the edge of the underwear and became entangled in it, pulling the garment down. 

The knocking on the door was heard again, accompanied by a male voice this time. 

"Roberta? Are you there?" 

His boss's voice completely paralyzed him, and he opened his eyes wide, feeling the excitement slowly subside. Roberta groaned again, this time in frustration, and pressed her forehead to his shoulder for a few seconds before raising her head. She looked into his eyes with longing and placed a small kiss on his lips before untangling her extremities from him and slowly separating. 

"Yes, one minute, please." 

Pierre stood up, breathing heavily. He looked at Roberta, who went in a hurry to find a different gown, and realized that if she opened the door, Mr. Bouc would see him there, disheveled, with his clothes uncomfortable and a huge erection pulling at his pants. He jumped to his feet and quickly fastened his jacket. 

"He's going to see me here." He whispered to Roberta pointing his head at the door, and she froze halfway through wrapping herself in a black robe that left nothing insight, realizing that little detail. "If he realizes what we did, and he sure will if he sees me like this, I'm fired."

Roberta blinked like an owl a couple of times until she seemed to react and pointed to the bathroom door. "The bathroom." She whispered, not knowing what else to say, and Pierre nodded quickly, grabbing his hat from where it had fallen near the bed, and running to lock himself in the bathroom before Roberta opened the door. 

He closed the bathroom door tightly, his heart pounding in his chest, but he wasn't sure if it was the fear of being discovered or the excitement of having the woman of his dreams in his arms. He heard the squeaking of the doorway to the room and glued his ear to the wood of the bathroom door so he could hear. 

"Roberta dear, I'm sorry to bother you." He listened to Mr. Bouc. "But have you seen Mr. Michel?" 

_ Merde _ !

"I need to talk to him and one of the chambermaids told me that he came to leave you a drink before the end of his shift. I looked for him in his room but he wasn't there." The man continued and Pierre blushed with shame.  _ He was neglecting his job! _

"Y-yes! I asked him to bring me a glass of wine a while ago. He did and then left; I have not seen him since." Roberta said, and Pierre could hear the nervousness in her voice. 

Well, at least he wasn't the only one in a panic. 

"All right, I'll keep looking for him then. Good night my dear."

"Good night Andrew." They both said goodbye and Pierre frowned when he heard the sound of a kiss. 

He heard the sound of the door closing and waited a few seconds until he was sure that Mr. Bouc would not be in sight, so he could leave the bathroom. Roberta was standing by the door when he emerged, covered by the black gown from her shoulders to her feet and with the fright reflected on her face. 

Pierre fixed his jacket once more and put on his hat, moving towards the door to leave before someone else came to get him. Roberta moved away from the door and stood in the middle of the room watching him uneasily for a couple of seconds, before rushing over him, clutching his jacket to pull him in and joining their lips in a new kiss. Pierre groaned on her lips and held her by the waist, kissing her with the same passion and longing. 

"I must go." He mumbled over her lips. 

"I know." The woman kissed him again for a long minute until she finally parted from him, slowlNuitving her red, swollen lips away to peck him on the cheek. "Good night, Pierre."

"Bonne nuit, ma chère."

He carefully stepped out of the compartment, and when he noticed that no one was in sight, he ran to his room. That night he slept deeply, with a huge smile on his face and his dreams plagued by the soft kisses and warm body of Roberta. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


The next morning, Pierre almost threw the breakfast of two different passengers onto them, almost dropped a suitcase on the side of the train, and almost fell off himself as they passed a huge cliff when he stumbled over his own feet. 

He was so nervous, anxious, and still couldn't believe that he had had the chance to kiss and caress the most amazing woman he had ever seen, as he had done. 

Roberta arrived at the dining room with a misty sky-blue skirt brushing her calves and a white blouse with ruffles on her chest that made her look like the wealthy woman she was. Her hair hung down her back, and her makeup was perfect as always. They spent the entire hour Roberta was in the dining room, sending not very discreet looks and smiling like idiots from one side of the room to the other. 

At nine-thirty the train stopped at the Munich station and the passengers were allowed to get off for a short walk if they wanted to. They wouldn't be there for more than twenty minutes, so Roberta took advantage of the time to sit in the first-class lounge and read for a while instead of going to her room to lock herself in. 

She was in the middle of her reading when Bouc appeared with a big smile and sat down on the couch next to her. 

"Have you enjoyed your experience on the Orient Express so far?" he asked her, moving closer. 

Roberta smiled politely and placed the bookmark on the page she was on, resting the book in her lap.

"It's been a pleasant trip, and the staff is excellent, I can't complain."

"I'm glad that's the way it is, dear."Bouc smiled once more and then looked away, slowly erasing his expression. "I haven't had a chance to give you my condolences for your husband's death."

Roberta opened her eyes in surprise. "I didn't expect you to, it's okay, Andrew."

"No, it's not, he and my father were good friends, and you were what he loved most."Bouc looked up and gave her a melancholy smile. "I once promised him that if anything happened to him I would take care of you, but I didn't do a good job."He extended his hand to take hers and gently caressed its back.

Roberta arched one eyebrow in confusion at the gesture, but let herself go. "It's not necessary, really."

"No, of course, but I want to. I have my permanent residence in Paris, I'll give you my address and phone number so you can contact me when you need to."He said, squeezing her hand a little to emphasize his point. Roberta tilted her head and smiled tenderly at him. "I would escort you to your new home myself but I'm afraid I'm needed on the train to London."

"Andrew..."

"Roberta. I just want to make sure you're okay. I promised to take care of you and I intend to keep that promise."

" _ Andrew _ , once again, you don't have to worry about me..."

"Mr. Bouc." Roberta turned in the direction of the voice and found Pierre watching them from the door of the hall, with his hands crossed behind his back and his face deadly serious. 

"Oh, Michele, what is it?"

"The station manager needs you immediately." 

"Eh yes. I'll be with you in a minute." Bouc turned to her again and without releasing her hand he bent down to place a kiss in the corner of her lips. Roberta opened her eyes in surprise and blushed slightly. "We will continue our conversation soon, my dear."

She winked and stood up, leaving the compartment. Pierre gave her an indescribable look for a second before following his boss. Roberta pursed her lips and shook her head, returning to her reading.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


That afternoon during lunch Pierre had barely looked at her and Roberta was beginning to feel offended. She had called him a couple of times to attend to her, but he had ignored her and sent one of the waiters in his place. She really wanted to yell at him, but she preferred to ignore him again and once her lunch was over, which she found insipid, she returned to her suite, locking herself in to escape from Bouc and Pierre himself. 

She had no appetite, so she decided to skip dinner, however, she asked a waiter who was outside her room to make her some tea and bring it to her room at eight o'clock. She took a long, well-deserved shower and put on her nightgown, sulking with herself because her plan to continue seducing Pierre that night and maybe this time come up with something else was ruined, because the stupid Frenchman had been ignoring her all damn day. 

At eight o'clock they knocked on the door and she had shouted to come in when she realized that she had locked the door and had to open it, so as upset as she had been all day, she got up and went to open the door, backing up in surprise when she ran into Pierre carrying the tray with her tea. She let him in and closed the door behind him, crossing her arms as she watched him carefully place the tray on the coffee table. 

The man stood still for a moment, hunched over the table, and hid his face from her view. Before she could say anything to him, she was assaulted, wrapped in the man's strong arms as he kissed her with voracious hunger. 

Roberta let herself be pleased, wrapping her arms around Pierre's neck and tearing his hat from his head to play with his curls as she had done the previous night. Pierre clutched his hands to her waist and Roberta moaned over his lips in surprise when he lifted her in the air and dragged her with him to the bed. 

Pierre moved away from her lips and untangled his hands from her waist. Roberta groaned in discontent but was led to a groan of pleasure as the man's lips and skillful tongue slipped down to her neck. Pierre's big hands went along her sides to her thighs, which he pressed with delight a moment before going down a little more to take the edge of the gown and lift it, dragging it slowly by her legs until it was wrapped around her waist. 

His hands caressed the bare skin of her legs, burying his fingers in the soft flesh while nibbling at her neck, drawing out of her moans and gasps of total pleasure. She slid her hands over the man's neck and shoulders, pulling the fabric of the jacket to look at it. Pierre stopped and looked her briefly in the eyes before going down to give her another kiss on the lips. Roberta opened her mouth to let him go through it and savor it as she had done the previous night, letting herself go with happiness. 

Her hands went down to his chest, unbuttoning one by one the buttons on his jacket and then pushing it out of his body. Pierre hunched over, moving away from her just enough to take off his jacket completely and throw it beside him on the bed, and immediately returned to attack her lips with the same ardor as before.

Slowly he went down her neck toward her chest, walking the same path that he had previously traced. He tore a couple of buttons off the gown with his teeth and Roberta screamed with delight, losing her senses when Pierre's anxious mouth attacked her nipples, sucking and nibbling like a hungry child. He pulled the wrinkled cloth off the gown and spread kisses across her flat abdomen until he stopped below her navel. 

He looked up, connecting his eyes with the emerald green, in a silent question, and Roberta, anxious as she was, nodded, lifting the gown herself to leave the space free; she buried her head in the pillows and waited. 

Pierre stroked her hip, slowly lowering it to her thighs and repeating the process a couple of times while slowly kissing the skin below her navel, the bones of her pelvis... deliberately ignoring her awake limb that pushed against the silk of her panties. 

“Pierre please” she groaned in a high-pitched voice, looking with her hands for the man's curls to pull him close to where she wanted him to be. 

"Sssh, quiet mon amour." Pierre smiled sideways and returned to his work of kissing her whole body except her limb. 

Slowly his fingers searched for the edge of her underwear, and without interruption this time, he was able to pull the garment down her legs until it was completely out of the way and dropped to the floor. He ran his hands down her legs once more before taking her erection in his hands, moving his fist up and down slowly.

Roberta arched her back and moaned loudly, covering her mouth with her fist immediately, remembering that there were guests in the neighboring compartments and someone might hear them. 

Pierre smiled more broadly at the sounds coming from the woman's mouth and continued to masturbate her, gently stroking her pretty pink member for a couple of long,  _ too long minutes _ . He looked at Roberta's contracted face, with her mouth open in a mute cry of pleasure and her eyes tightened in concentration. He brought his lips close to the glans, which was already dripping with pre-seminal, and gave it a quick lick that made Roberta's whole body shake violently and open her legs more to let it fit better between them. 

He gave one more kiss to the glans and then went down on the long member with his tongue, savoring it without putting it in his mouth completely. Roberta then melted in his hands, letting out moans that were drowned out by her fist in her mouth. Taking pity on her, he ascended again and finally surrounded the member with his lips, sucking and licking it with expertise. 

A hand of trembling fingers clutched at his hair and held it there, pressing the tip of his nose into the soft skin without a trace of hair. He moved his head slowly, up and down, sucking and brushing his teeth lightly against the throbbing flesh, driving Roberta completely crazy and demonstrating it with a strong pull on his hair. 

In his pants, his own limb was begging to be attended to, so while giving his attention to the woman beneath him, he released a hand from where it had been clinging to Roberta's thigh and rushed to unbutton his pants and slide the zipper in, tucking his hand between them to release his erection. He slowly masturbated, to the rhythm of the sucking he held over Roberta's limb, moaning contentedly around the hard flesh at the woman's hip movements, longing for more. 

His eyes blinked to the messy pillows Roberta had thrown around in her search for something to hold on to, and he had an idea. Much to the woman's pain, he slowly moved away, pulling the now glowing, beautifully red limb from his mouth. 

"N-no, don't stop." she gasped for air. 

"Calm down, I'm not finished with you yet.” He whispered to her. He stood up so that he could reach her face and kiss her red, swollen lips that received him with delight. 

He released his own limb and stretched out his arm to reach one of the pillows he skillfully placed under Roberta's hips to position her for what he was about to do.

"What are you doing?"

"Something I'm sure you're going to love." He winked and the woman smiled amusingly, nodding in approval as she closed her eyes again, settling in between the rest of the pillows to let Pierre do whatever he wanted with her. 

He rested his elbows on the bed and lifted Roberta's legs onto his shoulders.He held her hips with his hands and pulled her up until she was properly settled, leaving him a perfect view of her entrance. Roberta looked down with curiosity but closed her eyes again when Pierre surrounded her member with his hand, masturbating her again.

He leaned forward, licking the limb a couple of times before sliding his tongue down, going all the way to the puckered and throbbing entrance that invited him to dive into it. While attending to Roberta's erection, he brushed the entrance with his free hand, barely caressing it with his fingertips.

"Oh God, Pierre," shouted the woman, squeezing her legs around his head. Pierre smiled to himself and started to work, flattening his tongue between Roberta's buttocks.

The breath left the woman's body and her hips rose, pushing toward Pierre's tongue that had begun to explore the area around her entrance, gently pushing with the tip inward, slowly dilating it so that his greedy fingers could also touch and find their way into Roberta's warm interior. 

"Aaah, more, more...Pierre!" Roberta wrapped her legs around his neck, nailing her heels to his back and holding him there to continue to make her feel good. 

Pierre obeyed at once, sucking hard, brushing his teeth against the rough flesh that opened up before him, desiring more. He let go of the woman's limb so that he could hold her with one hand on her hip and with the other explore the place that his tongue was torturing. He pushed his index finger inward, enjoying the woman's gasps and ecstatic screams as he moved his hand in a constant rhythm, seeking to touch her sweet spot. Roberta took her erection in her hands, masturbating to the same rhythm as Pierre's touches. Her eyes rolled behind her head when the man added a second finger inside her, moving them in fast and constant stabs while running his tongue all over the area between her buttocks. 

Suddenly the man stood up, leaning on his knees to be able to come close to her face and kiss her once more. Roberta held him with one hand around his neck while she continued masturbating with the other, moaning enchanted on his lips while Pierre continued moving his fingers inside of her **.** He pressed his body against hers, leaning on her chest so that he could rub on her hip and achieve his own pleasure. Roberta screamed loudly over his lips as the long fingers reached their sweet spot and Pierre swallowed her moans with delight, enjoying the feeling of her melting under his touch. 

Roberta danced on the edge of absolute ecstasy. It had been a while since she had felt this way since she had not experienced a sexual act beyond touching herself furiously to relieve herself **.** That Pierre, the sweet Pierre who blushed every time she saw him, was touching and kissing her like this, was hallucinating and equally pleasant. 

Colored dots glowed behind her tightly closed eyes as the climax approached. She moved away from Pierre's kisses, who continued to kiss her jaw and the line of her neck, while Roberta arched against him and came hard. The world might have exploded around her but all she cared about was that moment in Pierre's arms. The man continued to move over her for a while, dragging her even further as he continued to penetrate her too sensitive body with his skilled fingers until he reached his own pleasure. 

They remained to lie on the bed for a long time entangled one in the other, with their clothes made a mess and huge smiles of full happiness on their faces. Pierre crawled to lie down by Roberta's side and she, kicking her pillows away, settled on his chest, listening with attention to the crazy beating of his heart. 

  
  


"Was it right for me to do that?" Pierre asked suddenly in an uncertain whisper. 

Roberta raised her head just off his chest and looked at him with a sleepy smile. "More than fine. I would ask you to continue, but I have run out of energy for nothing else."

Pierre smiled as well and kissed her hair, pressing her against his chest with one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders. They stayed like this for a few minutes, enjoying the silence and the presence of the other in each other arms, recovering their breath and energy. Pierre caressed the arm that was entangled in his waist with cadenced movements of his fingers, going down towards the thin hand that he took between his, massaging it with light grips on the back and the palm. 

Roberta was falling asleep when Pierre's body tightened under her. She blinked in confusion and raised her head to see what was happening, finding Pierre staring at the ring on her left hand, which he had not noticed until that moment, remembering a crucial fact:  _ Roberta was married! _

"What... what's going on?"

"Your husband..."

What about him?" she frowned, moving her hand away from Pierre's to better accommodate herself. She sat down with her back against the back of the bed and gave the man who had turned pale a glance. 

"H-he... you're married!" He replied in a muffled murmur, feeling the guilt rushing up his body. 

"What? No, I'm not married."

"But... I heard that..." Pierre frowned and looked at her in confusion. Roberta looked away and sighed. 

"I am a widow. My husband passed away almost two years ago."

The man froze and looked up at her in surprise, feeling like the biggest of idiots when he saw her face furrowed into a melancholy grimace. 

"I am so sorry I..." He should have seen the signs. Mrs. Arden had mentioned some of that and the little he heard of Roberta's conversation with Mr. Bouc must have given him a clue, now he had made a fool of himself.

"Is okay, but let's not talk about that. Tell me about yourself." She said, shaking her head sharply and turning to look at him with a little more enthusiasm in her expression. Pierre nodded thoughtfully and sat imitating his position as he thought about what to say. 

"My mother...She was a baker. She had a little bakery in our house in the village and everyone loved her cakes." A nostalgic smile crossed his face and Roberta imitated him, looking for Pierre's hand. "She died a few months ago.

"I am very sorry." She whispered to him, feeling her heart breaking a little bit because of the man's suffering.

"It's all right. She was very sick, there wasn't much the doctors could do for her and we also didn't have money to pay for expensive medicine, so we finally let her rest." He gave her a more animated smile and raised a hand to caress her cheek, and Roberta bent over to his touch meekly. "I have a sister, she is older than me and works in the United States as a nurse. She has a son who is the sweetest and smartest boy in the world. "

Roberta smiled softly as she saw his eyes sparkle and his accent deepen as he spoke quickly about how wonderful his nephew was for long minutes. Slowly she settled back on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. 

"You always wanted to be a train conductor?"

"No, of course not." He laughed to himself and Roberta seconded him. "This was the best job I could get, but as a kid, I dreamed of being a doctor, but we didn't have the resources to pay for college, so I ended up here." He shrugged his shoulders and took no interest in the matter. "What about you? Have you always been an Italian socialite?"

Roberta snorted amusingly and shook her head repeatedly. "No, I was a farmer's daughter not long ago."

They talked for a while longer about their lives, sharing small details about their past, wrapped in each other's arms until they began to doze off with the rocking of the train and Pierre had to say goodbye. He had to go back to his room in case someone was looking for him, besides, they couldn't risk being almost discovered like the night before; so after another session of kisses, he arranged his clothes and said goodbye, leaving Roberta dreaming of his kisses and attention, longing for more. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


At eleven o'clock the next morning the whole train shook, throwing passengers, food, books, and more objects to the ground before it came to a complete standstill. 

Roberta left her room in a panic, her clothes and hair disheveled after being thrown to the ground by the sudden movement. She found an alarmed crowd swirling around an equally frightened Pierre, who was trying to talk to them to keep them calm. She looked for an empty seat in the dining car and sat there waiting for the other passengers to calm down so she could hear what Pierre, and Bouc who emerged from the driver's cabin, had to say.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm," Pierre shouted over the crowd, raising his arms and clapping his hands to attract their attention. "The train has been slightly damaged and we will be stranded until help arrives." The people began screaming in annoyance at once, almost throwing themselves at the poor man.

"We are only a couple of hours away from the next station, when they see that we don't arrive at them at the agreed time, they will send help right away." Bouc intervened by pulling Pierre's arm to get him out from under the people who wanted to eat him alive. "Please remain calm, and enjoy the scenery. The place is safe and quiet and you can go for a walk if you wish, or you can stay here or in one of our observation cars."

The people slowly calmed down, and as they dispersed, Roberta asked a waiter for a cup of tea, which she sipped in small sips, enjoying the warmth that it gave to her cold hands. When the people had calmed down, Bouc approached her, sitting on the empty chair on the other side of the table. 

"How are you today? I hope our mishap didn't scare you," he asked with a small apologetic smile. His hands reached out for hers and he placed a small kiss on the back, caressing the cold skin with his thumbs for a long time. 

"I am fine, thank you." She responded by taking her hand out of the other's, wrapping it around her cup to hide her discomfort. "I was actually thinking about going for a walk and getting some air if that's okay."

"Sure thing, honey! In fact, I'll escort you myself." A bigger smile came over his lips and Roberta pressed hers, nodding and pretending to be delighted with the idea. 

"That's very kind of you. I'll go get my coat and meet you here in a moment."

She left her empty cup on the table and practically ran to her room to put her thick fur coat on her shoulders, covering her body barely wrapped in the thin white dress she had decided to wear that day. 

When she returned to the dining car Bouc was already waiting for her with a smile and a hand extended towards her so that she could take it and guide her out of the train along with the small group that had also decided to go out for some air. 

They had stopped in the middle of a meadow surrounded by tall trees of all kinds, relatively close to the next station. In the distance, they could hear the flow of a river and a couple of squirrels ran past and a flock flew out of the trees as they walked along the dirt track beside the train. She staggered a bit on her heels, but Andrew's hand balanced her. They approached the group that had gathered near the last car along with a couple of waiters who were setting up small tables for those who wanted to sit and drink tea in the middle of nature. 

A huge smile came over her when she saw Pierre appear, looking agitated from walking quickly to catch up with them. 

"Mr. Bouc!" He called out to them. "Mrs. Di Genova." He greeted her with a nod as he stood in her presence, again directing his attention to the director. "Sir, the engineer needs you at the front, he says it is urgent."

"What?" Bouc frowned in annoyance. "What can be so urgent? Everything is already organized, we just have to wait for help to arrive."

"I don't know sir, but he said you should be there as soon as possible."

Bouc rolled his eyes and turned to look at her, an annoyed grimace on his face. "Roberta dear, I'm going to have to leave you. I will attend to this matter as quickly as I can and come back to you at once."

"It's all right, Andrew, go do your job, I can get back to the train.

"No! Please, you wanted to walk for a while and... Michel!" he suddenly shouted, startling the alluded and her. "Can you take Mrs. Di Genova to walk around?"

"I..." Pierre blinked his eyes lost, looking a couple of times between her and Mr. Bouc, until he finally nodded fervently and extended one of his gloved hands towards her. "It will be a pleasure to accompany the lady on her walk."

Roberta tried to contain the smirk of satisfaction that she was struggling to not let out, and accepted the hand that was offered, sticking to the man's body as much as she could without seeming out of place. Bouc frowned a bit at the ease with which Roberta had accepted, however, he had time to argue when a scream from one of the train driver's assistants called out to him from the other side of the train. He apologized with a nod and ran off to where he was needed. 

Pierre then smiled, and placed Roberta's arm around his, and pulled her gently to start them walking. 

"Did you plan it?"

"What? Of course not! The situation simply presented itself and I was the winner." The man looked at her sideways and winked at her, giving her a funny smile. 

They walked slowly around the place, down the small slope on the side of the tracks, and into the forest. Pierre led her through the trees, explaining details about everything they saw, talking quickly with a huge smile and bright eyes that made Roberta sigh in adoration every two seconds. Pierre was a brilliant man and an excellent storyteller, however, she could not concentrate much on what he was saying, distracted as she was by the movement of his fleshy lips and large hands as he gestured, pointing at random bushes and trees. 

She rested her back on a tall tree and looked at him intently, running his body that looked amazing even with the layers of the uniform and coat he was wearing. With an idea in mind, she bit her lips and tilted her face, blinking slowly toward him to see if he noticed what she was doing, but the man did not seem to notice it so she had to act; she detached herself from the tree a little and taking between his hands the front of Pierre's coat, pulled him strongly toward her until their chests collided and her back hit the tree with force; she entangled one of her hands in his neck and forced him to lower his head to join their lips in a wild kiss. 

Pierre put his hands inside her coat, surrounding her waist with his arms. The cold wind sneaked through her clothes and she shivered closer to him to feel a little warm. She lowered her hands across his chest, undoing the buttons on his coat while one of Pierre's big hands went down her side, caressing her ass with strong squeezes, the other held her firmly against the tree, squeezing her waist. She got rid of the last button of the coat and pushed it out of her way, pushing the jacket aside as well until her fingers brushed the zipper of the man's pants and unbuttoned it with anxious movements. 

"Aaaah yes!" she moaned as the cold skin of Pierre's gloves brushed her thighs after sneaking under her dress. 

She put a hand between Pierre's underwear and the man drowned out a hoarse moan on her lips that she swallowed with delight, as her nearly frozen fingers brushed against his erection. 

Roberta was amazed. The previous night she had not been able to see much of the man's member, but she had felt it against her thighs and her hip while he rubbed himself against her; to have the thick and throbbing flesh between her hands was a different experience. Pierre was very well endowed and Roberta was dying to feel everything. 

They kissed ardently, making their tongues dance among them in a fight as passionate as the two previous occasions when they kissed. Roberta moved her hands as much as she could restricted by the fabric of Pierre's pants, masturbating Pierre and wanting to do more, putting her mouth around the man's thick axis. Pierre released her lips for a moment to recover some air, and in a quick movement, he lowered his hands to her thighs and lifted her in the air, forcing her to release her member to hold on to his shoulders and keep her balance. His legs surrounded the man's hip and her head hit the tree while she arches herself to give him space to explore her neck with his kisses. 

Pierre's hands went down a little more, separating her buttocks to touch her entrance over her undergarments as he had done once, and Roberta shuddered as she felt the touch of the gloves on her. It felt strange but, damn it, she liked it, and  _ a lot. _

The man got closer to her and Roberta could feel his erection hitting hers, and she squeezed her eyes tightly, letting herself be carried away by the pleasure. She was about to be fucked deliciously against a tree in the middle of the forest and she couldn't be more delighted with the idea. 

Until a very, very close scream brought them out of their bubble of pleasure and happiness and made them freeze on the spot.

"Damn it!" Pierre snarled on her lips before releasing her legs and letting her fall to the ground. 

Pierre looked at her with big, panicky eyes as he arranged his clothes with trembling hands, listening to the footsteps approaching them. Roberta wrapped herself in the coat by squeezing it with her arms around her waist and tried to control her breathing when an assistant appeared behind a tree, looking at Pierre with a scowl; he was upset. 

"Mr. Michele, I have been looking for you."

"Y-yes, Daniel, what is it? I was accompanying the lady for a walk." He pointed to Roberta and the woman gave the other man a friendly little smile. 

"The men from the station are here, and they need you out front.

_ What? Help had already arrived? _ How long had it been since they had gone into the woods?

Pierre nodded and gave the man a little thank you, turning to give Roberta his attention. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Di Genova, but we'll have to continue this another time." He expressed, raising an eyebrow to make sure she would get his point. And  _ of course _ she did.

He offered her his arm again and they walked together following the man back to the train. If the man noticed their swollen lips, Pierre's poorly buttoned coat and Roberta's unkempt hair, he preferred to ignore it because he didn't say anything to them or give them another look. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


That night when Pierre went to her room, without any drink for her, Roberta did not hesitate to jump on him, just giving him time to lock the door before dragging him to bed with her. 

Pierre observed with satisfaction that she was naked under the black gown that she had put on, and let himself be done when she threw him on the bed and sat on him astride it, ripping away his uniform jacket and shirt inside it, with abruptness. 

"Are you anxious?" He asked her with a mocking chuckle that was cut in half when the woman slapped him on the cheek with a scowl, feigning discomfort. Pierre arched one eyebrow and smiled sideways. 

Roberta ignored him and continued with her purpose of undressing him. She unbuttoned his pants, however, had to step aside and let Pierre do the work while she lay on her back, opening her gown completely and waiting for him with her legs open. The man stood still for a moment, observing her total nakedness under the light of the lamp, and Roberta smiled happily, moving around the naked body of the man also with her hungry eyes. 

Her limb jumped out with interest, looking at the broad shoulders, strong arms, and marked abdomen just enough to show that he was fit. Her mouth salivated as her eyes looked at Pierre's very interested limb resting against his stomach, with a sea of well-trimmed dark curls. 

"Do you see anything that interests you, madame?" asked the man when he caught her looking at him. 

"I will be more interested when I have it inside of me." She pointed out and Pierre's limb grew larger if possible. 

He climbed into the bed slowly, crawling toward it to position himself between her legs. He bent his face and kissed her, this time slowly, as different as they had kissed before, enjoying tasting her lips first before asking for entry, and Roberta melted completely. 

Her hands caressed his shoulders and went down his back hard towards his hip, pushing him to fall on her. "I love your kisses, but I really need to feel everything from you. You've been tempting me for days, I can't wait any longer." She whispered over his lips, more like an order that Pierre was very willing to carry out. 

He lowered one of his hands that had been resting on the sides of Roberta's head to hold himself up, and looked between her buttocks, almost losing his mind when he felt the entry dripping slippery. 

"What the...?"

"I've been waiting for this, I don't want to waste any more time, so I prepared myself for you."

Delighted with the idea of Roberta preparing herself, touching with her fingers her sweet spot and thinking about it. He touched with his ring finger, around the ring of rough skin and forced it inside, biting his lips not to moan as he wanted when the passage gave way easily, sliding his finger to the warm interior. Roberta lifted one leg and wrapped it around his waist, tapping it on his butt with his heel, hurrying him up. He lifted his head to kiss her once more, and knowing how eager the woman was for him to finally make love to her, he pushed a second finger and a third a couple of seconds later, moving a couple of times inside to stretch her out a little more.

Not that he doubted Roberta's abilities to take care of herself, but after the night before, he had gotten a taste for touching her with his fingers and making her melt underneath him. 

"Pierre, come on, don't make me wait any longer." She urged him, and Pierre agreed, just as eagerly. 

Slowly he pulled his fingers out of the woman's warm interior and used that same hand to take his dripping limb, sore from not having been attended to yet, and rubbed the moisture from his fingers over it, before rising to his elbows and aligning his limb in the proper position. He brushed the small entrance with his glans a couple of times, before forcing it inwards, diving little by little, inch by inch into the surprising narrowness. 

Roberta arched her back and shouted without being able to contain herself when Pierre was finally completely inside her. The man panting over his neck, stood still for a moment to get used to the pressure that the narrow passage was exerting on his limb. With the hand that was still near Roberta's head and that had become entangled between her long hair, he arranged the other long leg of the woman around his hips, and then he leaned his elbows on the bed to push himself, moving slowly in and out of the narrow passage. 

"Mmm yes!" He groaned in ecstasy. She felt better, much better than he had anticipated. 

Pierre picked up a steady pace, moving in and out of her quickly enough to make her see the stars. Her hands searched for the man's curls and tangled in them as she liked so much, pushing him to find her lips and kiss her again with fervor, drowning out her moans of absolute pleasure over the fleshy lips. 

The man felt himself in paradise, caught between Roberta's deadly grip on his hips and hair, and his limb buried deep within her, touching the spot that drove her crazy. It felt like home, and his heart burned to experience this forever. 

He went down the long neck, running around it with hungry kisses, sucking the sweaty skin with eagerness, pulling complaints from the woman's lips as he kept pounding inside over and over again. Roberta took one of her hands out of his hair to look for her apprehended limb between their bodies, masturbating to the rhythm of Pierre's stabs that had lost a little control, moving faster as they approached their climax. 

"Ro, Ro...I don't want to let you go." He whispered in her ear amidst agonizing gasps. 

He moved his hips at a particular angle and Roberta felt her fingertips touching the sky when the limb inside her struck the exact spot that drove her insane; she had to sink her teeth into Pierre's sweaty shoulder to drown out the scream that came from her throat. 

As Roberta got closer and closer to her release, her entrance tightened if possible around Pierre, leaving him completely breathless, while he buried his nose in the woman's neck, inhaling the aroma of her hair combined with the slight smell of sweat from the arduous activity. 

"Pierre!" shouted Roberta in his ear as she reached the top, soaking them both with her come. 

Pierre couldn't resist much after that, and ran deep into Roberta, filling her up completely and making her scream once again with absolute pleasure. His teeth left a beautiful red mark on the neck of the woman where he had bitten to silence the scream with her name that he had uttered. 

Roberta shuddered beneath him, unrolling her numb legs from his waist and her arms from his neck, letting herself fall into the bed completely unraveled. Pierre fell on her, breathless and with no more strength, still deeply buried inside her. 

  
  


They remained in that position for the following hour, entirely exhausted and happy to be in each other's arms as they had wished since the first moment they met. Pierre moved in a moment, intending to get dressed and leave, however, Roberta's pleading eyes asking him to stay overpowered him, and he ended up curled up under the blankets, with the woman firmly embracing his chest, finally lulled to sleep by Pierre's soft voice singing a French song in her ear. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


When the train stopped at the Paris station, Roberta's destination, Pierre wanted to cry. 

He held the woman in a tight embrace when he went to look for her in her room, giving her short, deep kisses to make sure she would remember him once she was away from him. He would have liked to stay like this forever, hugging her, however, Roberta had to go to her new home and he had to board the train that would take him to London. 

As her bags were lowered, he waited beside her on the platform, brushing their shoulders, resisting the temptation to hug her once more. Mr. Bouc came to say goodbye to her, apologizing for not being able to escort her to her new residence, and turning Pierre's stomach with jealousy when he hugged her and kissed her cheek longer than he should have. 

They placed Roberta's bags next to her and her new butler, who was already there, arranged them in a cart. Roberta turned to look at him with some sadness, and in an unexpected movement, she leaned over to him and placed a kiss in the corner of his mouth, resting one hand on his chest and sliding it into his open coat, not caring that everyone at the station was watching. 

"Come and visit me." She whispered to him before stepping aside and walking to her butler and away from him. 

Pierre frowned in confusion and touched his coat, feeling the shape of something in his inside pocket. He looked inside it and pulled out a carefully folded paper. Written on it in elegant calligraphy, was an address and a phone number. 

A huge smile crossed his lips, and when the train horn that would take him to London echoed in the station, he trotted towards it, with the image of those emerald eyes present in his thoughts.

  
  
  


_ The end. _

**Author's Note:**

> For my bitches in the Top!Joe discord, I hope this was enough smut for your horny asses. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, but remember to be polite or else you would feel my anger. Come yell at me in private if you want [ over here ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mother-of-hedgehogs)
> 
> Love u all, see u next time xx.


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